


For Sure, We’ll Be Okay

by michelleSorta



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cousins, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Howling Commandos Family, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1666748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michelleSorta/pseuds/michelleSorta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your snack situation is painful,” said Trip loudly from the couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Sure, We’ll Be Okay

Sharon had her weapon in hand the moment she opened the door. Someone uninvited was in her apartment.

The dim light of her TV glowed from the living room.

_‘You're the saddest bunch I ever met…’_

Sharon took a cautious step forward, frowning. The CIA was supposed to have covered for her, her identity should not have been compromised this quickly; it was less than a month –

_‘But you can bet before we're through…’_

“Your snack situation is painful,” said Trip loudly from the couch, his feet propped up on the opposite arm rest. He was lying down, watching Disney movies, and eating an absurdly large, trash bag sized container of Doritos.

Sharon smiled, clicking the safety back in place. It was just like old times except they were not wearing footie pajamas and begging Peggy to let them stay up past nine o’clock.

“Your diet is painful,” she replied as she tucked her gun securely against her back. With a grunt, she forcibly pushed his ridiculously long legs off the couch to make herself a spot on her sofa. She earned herself a hurt puppy dog look that she had become immune to because damn, it was effective. She ignored it in favor of removing her bland black CIA issued shoes.

“And yet, I’m a happier man as a result.” Trip grinned, settling his sock clad feet on her mahogany coffee table His smile was all teeth and sweetness and Sharon could see Gabe so clearly that it hurt. He would be so disappointed in them right now; two SHIELD agents without their agency.

Sharon was almost glad Aunt Peggy was not coherent to remember what had become of the organization she had built from the ground up.

Trip propped a bag onto her lap.

Turkey burgers from the diner across the street. Her stomach growled loudly in response.

“Don’t tell me you’re on your vegetarian kick again.” Trip eyed her with over exaggerated suspicion as he unwrapped more food: crispy sweet potato fries and what looked like half a pecan pie.

“Healthy living,” she said firmly but it did not stop her from eagerly pulling out a burger and biting into the still hot turkey burger gleefully. She moaned at the first bite, and the laugh from Trip almost made her blush. Almost, but her lunch included a meager salad and handful of nuts, so hunger easily won out.

Sharon was on her second burger and halfway finished with his sweet potato fries, hers finished ages ago, when Trip finally spoke up.

“I saw the video feed.” Trip’s eyes stayed steadfast on the screen, his posture a forced casualness. “Of you in the control room. You did a good job in there.”

The jerk.

And she was crying, she was crying with a mouthful of turkey burger still in her mouth while watching a Disney film on the part where men were wearing drag, with a CIA badge that she did not care for pressed against her hip, without an agency that she had worked so very hard to become an agent of without mentioning (but everyone and anyone who even glanced at her folder knew) who she was related to, next to her cousin, whom she thought was dead because he had not answered her emails or phone calls for weeks and he would die before becoming a HYDRA agent, and now here he was, sitting next to her as if it was another day of breaking and entering between family.

Sharon felt his arms around her, uncaring of the fact that he was squishing a turkey burger as well as a woman with running mascara against his chest. He held her firmly like he knew that she was afraid that he was a figment of her imagination. She could feel his heartbeat against her ear, like a hummingbird, strong and constant, but delicate, just like the small boy with the largest eyes and kindest smile that would follow her and sit beside her as she did donuts in the front yard in her pink, battery operated princess car. Judging by the barely perceptible shake of his shoulders, he also needed to know that she was still alive, still a member of SHIELD, still loyal to their family.

They did not advertise their family members. They were proud, so very proud and in awe of Peggy and Gabe and the rest of the Howling Commandos and the Old Guard but they, Trip, Sharon, and their countless cousins, many of who were also reeling from the impact of this security usurpation, had wanted to pave their own roads.

Judging from the sad lines around his eyes –she had heard about Monroe and Garret – and the recent radio silence from him, he probably needed to see her as much as she did him.

“You look horrible,” Sharon croaked when they pulled away from one another, his hand remained resting on her shoulder like an anchor. His eyes were red and snot ran from his nose but his smile only widened.

“You should look in a mirror,” he replied as he carefully wiped her face with a diner napkin, probably smudging the mascara even worse.

\--

They were sitting on her couch, Trip’s snot and turkey burger covered clothing in the washing machine. Instead, Trip was temporarily relegated into her black sweatpants, the hem of the pants reaching mid-calf, with a college t-shirt (oversized on her and fitting remarkably well on him despite his broad shoulders), and a pair of one size fit all tube socks to finish off the ensemble.

Damn him if he didn’t look good.

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring any clothing.” Sharon was wearing her super comfy ducky pajamas, a faded ring of mascara still around her eyes, but that would be a situation for the morning. She did not budge from her place beside him, her body pressed against his side, the half slice of pie sitting on her lap and shared between them.

“I’m only here for the evening.” Trip snagged a forkful of pie. They were watching the animal channel now - something about puppies and kittens.

“Ah.” HYDRA and its remaining members had gone underground, and anyone still loyal to SHIELD had either joined different agencies, disappeared from radar, or was ceremoniously snapped up by STARK industries.

Trip shrugged noncommittally, and said between mouthfuls of pie. “Coulson.”

“ _Oh_.” Sharon slowly nodded. So scuttlebutt had been right: he was still alive.

“I showed him granddad’s old spy kit,” and she could hear the nerd creep into his voice.

“Did he geek out?” Sharon smiled. Coulson was legendary for his hobby.

“Of course,” Trip chuckled. He was clearly pleased to meet his own kind. “He noticed the hypno beam! He saw the button on the bottom and knew that it was an original beta –“

“And stop.” She had to end him or he would talk about Captain American and Howling Commandos forever.

“Mm!” Sharon suddenly lurched forward and sprang from her seat, dashing into her room. She came back and sat down triumphantly, and proudly offered him a small envelope wrapped in multicolor elephants. “A late birthday gift. I – I didn’t know when you would be home…”

“This better not blow up on me,” replied Trip simply as he unwrapped it. His eyes widened.

Sharon was completely prepared for the crushing bear hug.

“You got my Captain America trading cards signed!”

“Yeah,” Sharon laughed. Fortunately for her, she did not have to break into his home. Thankfully, his mom had welcomed her in with a hug, a slice of coconut cake, and the promise she would visit more than once a blue moon. “I knew you were jealous of my assignment so I asked him to sign them for me when I passed him one day.”

Trip held the mint, first edition cards, carefully tucked into plastic sleeves, as if they would fly out of his fingers. “Even Coulson doesn’t have his signed.”

“Are we even?” Sharon asked.

After a beat, Trip finally nodded, finally looking up. “I’m still holding you in contempt for getting the assignment to watch over Steve Rogers, but yeah,” he rustled her hair fondly, “We’re good.”

Sharon swatted his hand. “Fury assigned me personally,” she retorted, “It wasn’t like there was an office pool or anything.”

“I could’ve totally watched over Steve Rogers!” Trip was indignant. “And I would’ve won that pool too!”

“He needed someone who was nonthreatening!”

“I’m very nonthreatening!”

Sharon gawked at him, scanning at his figure swathed in her clothing, and well, yeah. “You’re a six foot something guy.”

“So?” Trip pouted. “We could totally have been homies.”

Sharon smirked, “He needed something more than homies. Romanoff has been trying to set him up for a while now.”

“And I’m currently single,” he said easily.

“Too bad,” replied Sharon. “But,” she paused. Trip leaned closer. “He asked me out for coffee.”

“ _I_ would have gone for coffee with him!”

“In _his apartment_.”

Trip opened his mouth, closed it, and then scrunched his face momentarily, then stated, “Did you say yes? You didn’t, did you?” He pointed at himself, “I would’ve accepted his offer!” He smiled, “He’s easy on the eyes.”

“That is _not_ part of the mission,” Sharon squawked. Because Trip would have said yes in a heartbeat, and she would have said yes as well, oh _would she have_ , but she was a professional and this was her first solo assignment.

“Next time,” Trip said, “I’m meeting him and I’m going to get coffee with him.”

“What? Excuse you!” Sharon smacked him playfully in the arm, “We have a standing coffee date.”

“Before or after he found out that you weren’t the sweet, sexy nurse next door but a sexy super secret spy who was monitoring him in case he went rogue?”

Sharon huffed and turned back toward the television. “We’re going to have coffee,” she said in finality.

“Uh huh.” Trip mirrored her posture, using her shoulder as a headrest. He stared happily at his cards. “Thanks for the birthday gift.”

She smiled.

“If you don’t ask him for coffee next time, _I am_.”

Sharon bumped her head against his, “ _After_ I have my coffee with him.”

Trip chuckled, rearranging himself more comfortably on the couch for a nap; he had to leave in a few hours and his clothing was almost dry. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Sharon repeated.

Later, she would tuck her new secured email address into his pant pocket. Even later on that day, she would find a crude drawing of SHIELD’s badge on top of her CIA badge, his new email address carefully printed on its wings.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 2am and I regret nothing.


End file.
